


A House Becomes a Home

by agoodpersonrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose is a good husband, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Husbands, Love, M/M, Patrick Brewer is a Good Husband, Post-Canon, Rose Apothecary (Schitt's Creek), Rosehill Cottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24387562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodpersonrose/pseuds/agoodpersonrose
Summary: A series of six events wherein David and Patrick's cottage becomes a home.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 26
Kudos: 200





	A House Becomes a Home

**1.**

Their house is perfect. That’s the only thing that David can think of as they finally climb out of Patrick’s old Sedan and onto the gravelled drive.

It’s almost two months after their wedding and they have finally been given the keys to their Kate Winslet dream cottage. Packing up the apartment unsurprisingly didn’t take long; Patrick is not known for hoarding tendencies, and the clothes from the love room take almost double the amount of time to box up and sort through than all of his items put together.

The last night at the apartment had been a tornado of unexpected emotion, and some of the most passionate sex David has ever had in his life. Patrick wasn’t wrong; even though they had been together a considerable amount of time when he moved out of Ray’s, they had really started their life together in that small studio, and leaving it brought up a lot of memories that they really weren’t willing to part with.

But the house was the start of their real life together, as husbands; the start of the rest of their lives, and neither of them can hold back their excitement as they stand, either side of the car and stare up at the house.

David can see Patrick’s head move to face him out of the corner of his eye, and he returns the look with equal enthusiasm.

“I’ve got to say, David.” He says, putting his hands on his hips the way he does when he thinks he’s being smart, “I think we made the right call on this one.”

“We?” David replies, the sharpness of his voice off-put by the fond face he is making at his husband across the roof of the car. “I think I was the one that made the decision in the end. Someone wasn’t even going to tell me this was an option.”

Patrick just rolls his eyes. They’d had this discussion several times, even turning it into an argument on one memorable occasion after a long day and the emotions of the upcoming wedding truly setting in.

There were no hard feelings anymore. Patrick had felt disappointed that he and David weren’t on the same page about setting down roots in Schitt’s Creek, and the potential move to New York, and David had felt betrayed that Patrick had made a plan for after the wedding without consulting him, and then gave up on it as soon as it didn’t go his way. It was a tense discussion, and they had come to the conclusion that both of them needed to learn to involve the other in all decisions, especially major ones such as houses and the future.

They had come out of it stronger, and had finally, finally signed the deposit agreement, and the house was theirs. Despite the surprise David had felt on discovering that he would soon be a home-owner, in a small town, in the middle of nowhere, he quickly got used to the idea, and had spent the past months planning and designing the house, scoping out flea markets and second hand furniture stores for the interior, and communicating with builders and decorators, including (to Patrick’s annoyance) Ronnie, who had agreed on a fixed rate to decorate the house at an agreeable price.

Patrick jangles the keys in his left hand, staring up at the house with a thoughtful expression on his face. They had only packed the essentials, clothes, books, and sentimental items, into the car for the time being; their tenancy of the apartment didn’t finish for another week, so they had a truck booked to move the bulk of the stuff the next day.

The majority of their furniture was going to be new, and so the bed and couch had already been delivered, but they had yet to officially move anything in themselves.

David waits patiently as Patrick seems to come to a decision about something and move to the front of the car. He follows close behind, reaching out to clasp the proffered hand tightly in his own as they walk around the hedges and approach the steps.

Before they can slip the key into the lock, and enter their house, Patrick stills, dragging David to a halt on the final step.

David looks affronted as his arm is pulled back, the forward momentum surprising him and making him wobble slightly and look at his husband in confusion.

“What--”

“Isn’t there like, a tradition, or something, to do with this?” Patrick says. He seems like he is trying to tease David about something, but the slight blush on his cheeks suggests otherwise.

“A tradition for what?”

“Like, a tradition for a married couple who are entering their matrimonial house for the first time after the wedding. Like, a little, um, ceremony.” Patrick coughs slightly into his fist as his eyes flitter around awkwardly, which makes David grin.

“Patrick, are you really suggesting we do the whole, carry your wife across the threshold thing--”

“Yeah, you’re right, it was a dumb idea I was just kidding.” Patrick says, shaking his head and avoiding David’s eyes as he reaches his free right hand out to twist the key in the lock and open the door.

He is about to walk in when he is pulled back by his left hand, still tangled with David’s, and lifted full bodily off his feet. He startles, kicking out a bit in surprise before his arms go automatically to tighten around David’s shoulders.

“David--” He says, a little breathlessly and he is hitched up further into his arms.

“Was this- what you- what you had in mind?” David asks, struggling with him through the door with all the grace he has when he carries boxes into the store, and trampling over the mat so they are in the house.

He doesn’t stop there, and slowly, they make their way through the front of the house to the living area, which is open-planned and connected to a kitchen.

Patrick starts wiggling, pleased and embarrassed by David’s little performance as he grunts and groans to place him gently down on the plastic-wrapped grey couch at an awkward angle in the centre of the room.

David makes a big deal of straightening his back up, and moans even as he is smiling down at Patrick, who has his feet up against the length of the cushions and is looking up at him with an almost awed expression on his face.

“Was that what you had in mind?” David asks, and squeaks slightly as Patrick reaches up to fist a hand in his sweater and pull him down towards him.

“Get down here.” He growls, crushing their lips together passionately.

David flails his hands awkwardly before settling one on the back of the couch, plastic crinkling under his fingers unattractively, and another cupping Patrick’s face. He clambers onto Patrick, kneeling snugly between his bent legs to ensure the kiss isn’t broke, and tangles his hand in his husband’s hair.

Patrick is the one to deepen the kiss, breathing in desperately in a small gap before pulling David ever closer, and teasing his tongue across his bottom lip.

They explore each other’s mouths, the sensation of desire and desperation permeating their embrace but a constant comfort, and ease in their movements. There is nobody to interrupt them here. They are the only ones moving to the house today and the intention to christen their new space is forefront in both their minds even without discussion.

David laughs slightly as Patrick bucks his hips up, and he pulls back to glare at him.

“What are you laughing about?” Patrick asks, pouting slightly, his lips plump and red, and a glaze over his eyes as he stares enticingly at David’s lips even despite the separation.

“Nothing, nothing.” David replies, placing small, placating kisses on his husband’s lips to try and soothe him. “I was just wondering how many places in the house we are able to Christen together in one night.”

Patricks smile instantly rises on his face and his gaze turns predatory.

“Oh?” He says, pressing the smile against David’s, his eyes already closed in expectation. “Should I have made a list? A spreadsheet maybe? Where else did you have in mind?”

David flushes slightly as he opens and closes his mouth. “Um, the bed?” He mumbles, trying desperately to distract Patrick by sliding his hands up and down his hips eagerly, a classic nervous move.

“Oh yeah? Where else? Don’t let me stand in the way of your plans.” Patrick says, happy to be on the upper hand again.

“I--”

“Maybe we could Christen the kitchen. It’s probably better to do it sooner rather than later since there’s no food or germs. I could bend you over the counters and--”

The rest of the sentence is cut off by David’s hand across his mouth. Patrick’s eyes widen in surprise and even David looks shocked by his own movement. He recovers quickly however, removing his hand and replacing it with his lips, brushing them together as he talks.

“I already have a plan for the kitchen. I actually think I would prefer it the other way around.” He says, looking up to catch Patrick’s eye as he bites into his lip, hard enough to make Patrick jerk slightly again underneath him, and stutter again.

“Mhm, yeah- um, whatever-- Your plan, we can go with your plan.” He says, nodding overenthusiastically and narrowly avoiding bashing their heads together.

David grins at him. “Alright then.” He says, leaning in for another sweet kiss before pulling them both up and off the couch, and making the short journey to the kitchen to start their first evening together.

**2.**

The furniture arrives, piece by piece, and the house is slowly filled with memorabilia from the book of their lives. The personal touches are put up; the Rose Apothecary Open Mic Night poster placed in the hall; photos from the wedding; the framed receipt under the television in the living area.

It all comes together as a tapestry of their relationship, and their lives separately as well.

Somehow, against all logic and taste, it works. David and Patrick would be the first to admit that their styles and aesthetics are vastly different and generally clashing, but there is something about the ways in which the house grows around them that prevents either of them from caring.

It’s not until the dreaded day when David’s all-important Cedar chest is lugged into the back of Patrick’s car, and driven to the house, that they hit a roadblock.

“It should be in the bedroom though because that is where I get dressed!” David exclaims, as they both look accusingly at the case sat temporarily at the foot of the stairs.

“David, you have a whole room for this stuff, it should go with the rest of your sweaters and things in the room next to ours.”

David huffs, moody from the discussion and out of breath from helping Patrick lift it up the drive and into the house. “That is for long-term storage, are you really expecting me to have to walk through the house every morning to get changed. The chest goes at the foot of the bed like it always does and I will change out the knits when I get bored of them.”

“Then what was the point of the walk-in closet Ronnie made you in the guest room?”

“Well they weren’t all going to fit in the bedroom! That doesn’t mean that none of them should go in there.”

Patrick has his hands on his hips again and is looking increasingly distempered as the conversation continues.

“We already have a chest of drawers in the bedroom, there’s hardly room for this.” He tries, reasoning with David.

“What is this about? It fit just fine in the apartment and that was a bit of a squeeze.” David says, frowning and looking closely at his husband.

Patrick blushes slightly, shifting around the box to circle it judgementally.

“Oh my God just tell me--”

“It doesn’t match!” Patrick says finally, throwing his hands out in the air frustratedly. “It was fine in the apartment because the bed was black metal and so it didn’t clash, but our new bed is wood and it’s a slightly different colour wood and I just don’t think this is going to go in that room anymore.”

He looks up guiltily when David doesn’t respond to find him staring at him with shock evident on his face.

“David--”

David is laughing before he can finish his sentence and approaching him with arms stretched and ready to settle around his neck.

“You are the sexiest man I have ever met.” David mutters, pressing their lips together in a familiar way before pulling back and looking Patrick in the eye. “I think we should include more talk of aesthetics into our foreplay.”

Patrick sighs, smiling slightly but still with creases across his forehead as he rests it against David’s shoulder.

“That doesn’t solve the problem, and now you know that I was making a fuss about nothing.” He whines, relaxing as David runs a hand up and down his back.

“Mm, the aesthetic style of our bedroom is definitely not nothing, and you might be right. I hadn’t considered the colours of the wood.”

David looks thoughtful for a moment, before tipping his head and looking back at Patrick who is watching his facial journey with raptured interest.

“What if we used the bottom drawer of the dresser for the sweaters for the week, then the sweaters for the month stay in the chest and get switched out, and the rest stay in the guest bedroom?” He asks.

“So, the chest is still going in the bedroom?”

“Mhm, but since I won’t have to open it that often we can cover it with the cushions so that it draws less attention, and then look into some paint colours to paint it when we next get the chance. How’s that?”

He looks so tentative that Patrick can’t help himself and leans in to press a re-assuring kiss on his lips.

“When did you get so good at compromise?” He asks teasingly, and David softens at his tone and rolls his eyes.

“Hm, I think an aspect of that compromise involves you carrying the bottom of the chest whilst we somehow manoeuvre it up these stairs.” David says, wincing at he looks nervously between said stairs and the chest. Patrick smiles in a way which means he will give David whatever he wants, and nods, his hands back on his hips as he stares at the obstacle.

“Okay, David. No time like the present. On the count of three.” He says commandingly, as they both reach down to grab at one end and lift with their knees.

David faces Patrick and walks slowly backwards until he can feel the bottom step against his ankle. He lifts it slowly and they make their way up the stairs at a snail’s pace.

When they reach the corner, they slow down even further, and David flusters as they try to twist and angle the box.

Just as Patrick is moving up another step, the cedar chest lurches to the side and slams into the wall. Both men freeze, looking at each other in panic before sparing a glance at the wall where a small dent and mark can be seen.

“Fuck.” David groans under his breath, careful not to drop the cedar chest as Patrick instructs him to keep moving.

They finally make it all the way to the top, and the chest is placed haphazardly in the bedroom to be sorted later. They return to the stairway and both stand looking at the dent curiously.

“I don’t think it’s that bad.” Patrick tries, “It’s barely even noticeable really.”

“Mm, yes, the massive dent in our wall is barely even noticeable. That’s a relief.” David says sarcastically, glaring at the mark as if having a personal vendetta against it.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Well, we can always call Ronnie to fix it if you want?” He says slowly, turning to watch David’s reactions. “Or, we could uh, we could keep it?”

David frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Patrick says, “It’s kind of nice don’t you think? This is our house so it’s not like it will cost us the deposit, and we can get it fixed sometime in the future maybe, but it’s kind of nice that we have made our first mark on the house.”

“Ha, a very attractive dent of a mark it seems.”

“Think about it this way. Every time you see that little mark from now on, you’ll be reminded of this. You’ll remember what it was like to move in together, to our forever home, and meld our lives together. That mark is a mark of our joint ownership. We made it together, in our house--”

“Okay, okay.” David cuts him off, one hand up in a surrendering fashion, but smiling, nevertheless. “If it means that much to you then we should keep the hole in the wall.” He winces as he says it, but Patrick knows that by not resisting he is accepting the mark for what it is and accepting his explanation. “But this is the last one. I’m not moving into a hovel, anymore ‘marks of our joint ownership’ are getting filled.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick says, sounding almost gleeful as he wraps his arms around his husbands’ waist and kisses his cheek fondly.

They look at the mark for a moment longer, both with small smiles on their faces, before heading back up to re-organise the bedroom.

**3.**

Patrick wakes up one morning alone in the king-sized bed. He reaches a sleepy hand over to the vacant spot and groans moodily, rubbing one eye open as he looks around the room.

It takes a couple more minutes for his surroundings to fully register but when they do, he hears the sound of the ensuite shower running. His mind catches up, and he remembers that he had requested that David open today to meet the vendors visiting the store this morning, whilst Patrick prepared to go to a tax seminar in Elmdale.

Fortunately, the short journey to the seminar means he won’t have to stay away overnight, but he still can’t help but pout as he considers the day apart from David.

He climbs out of the bed slowly, his limbs taking a while longer to wake up than the rest of him and follows the sound of David’s humming into the bathroom.

He slips off his boxers and slowly moves the shower curtain, his hands-on David’s hips from behind to move him out of the way.

“Mm, morning.” He says, voice cracking from disuse and he tucks his head over David’s shoulder and hugs his back.

“Morning sleepyhead.” David replies, gripping Patrick’s arms where they are clenched around his waist, and leaning his head back slightly to bump against Patrick affectionately.

David grinds his hips back slightly and that is enough for Patrick to turn him around in his arms and push him fully against the wall and kissing him messily so he’s squirming under his touch.

“I’m going to miss you today.” Patrick mutters as he pushes ever further into David, their hips moving in tandem and causing friction enough to make them both gasp.

“Mm, Patrick--” David moans in response, tipping his head back to reveal his slender neck.

Patrick pounces on it, biting and sucking marks as he travels down towards David’s shoulder. He pauses for a moment, reaching down to pull at David’s thigh to slot his leg around his hip. It is this movement that pushes them heavily towards one side, bumping into the shower controls and hearing a loud crunch.

They pause, looking at each other nervously, before water erupts from the wall and sprays the room, reaching up to the ceiling and around the curtain. David screams, but he’s laughing as they duck from the assault, crawling out from the shower until Patrick finally pulls the power cord and the water stops.

They stand there together, naked and panting with laughter and exertion as they peek back around the curtain to view the destruction behind it.

“I should call--”

“Don’t say Ronnie.” Patrick growls. “You know exactly what she’ll say if she sees this. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

David rolls his eyes but nods, “Fine, then you can call someone to come and fix it.” He says, kissing Patrick on the neck nevertheless as he heads back into the bedroom.

“David--” Patrick calls, out, looking disgruntled. “Don’t you want to finish what we--”

“You’re the one that wanted me to open early. We’ll have to finish what we started when we get back.” David says with emphasis, wiggling his shoulders teasingly but already pulling a sweater over his head and tying a towel around his damp hair effectively proving that he is not just teasing.

Patrick pouts childishly as he stands in the doorway.

David seems to take pity on him and crosses the room to give him a soft kiss on the lips. “I know, honey. But you need to leave soon if you want to make your seminar thingy. “I’ll call a company to fix the shower.”

***

It turns out that the company David calls demands incredibly high rates. So high, in fact, that he is unwilling to commit to it, and instead calls Ronnie in to fix the shower, sending a quick text to Patrick to warn him.

She comes into the store before closing, glaring around in her normal distasteful expression, but her eyebrow quirking slightly as she looks at David.

“Hi, Ronnie.” He says, sighing in relief as he sees she is the customer who has entered, and looking quickly back to the book in front of him to fill in the line of inventory he had been focusing on.

“Hello.” She says suspiciously, approaching the counter and leaning against it, feigning disinterest. “So, what happened to your shower then?”

“Oh, you know, I must have knocked it this morning because the whole thing just came apart.”

“Huh,” She says, tipping her head in a way which means she doesn’t believe David’s excuse, not dissimilar to how Patrick looks when David says something unbelievable although both of them would resent that comparison. “That’s funny, because I fitted that shower, and it would take quite the impact to remove it from the wall like that.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” David says, waving his hands around and almost throwing the pen he is holding out of one as he immediately turns defensive.

Ronnie hums again and looks around. “I can offer you a better rate for it, but I won’t have the replacement delivered until tomorrow afternoon.” She says, poking around the products lining the centre desk.

“That’s great, thank you.” David says, watching her with eagle eyes as she rounds the counter and heads towards the massage oils in the corner.

“I want a discounted rate on this though.” She says, picking up a bergamot scented bottle, and heading back to the counter. “We’ll see if I can’t break a few showers of my own.”

David flushes red, but nods and rings up the purchase with a generous 25% off.

“I appreciate that.”

***

A week later, David wakes up to the sounds of Patrick in the shower. He smiles slightly to himself as he looks at the clock, and mentally decides he has plenty of time to join him; climbing out of the bed and eagerly rushing towards the bathroom.

He strips quickly, and clumsily steps into the shower, only for Patrick to turn around and hold out a hand to stop his advance.

“What--”

“We can’t do that in here anymore, David.” Patrick says firmly, still staying a full arm’s length away from him and looking flustered.

David gapes at him in outrage. “What? What do you mean? We--”

“Roland came into the store yesterday.” Patrick continues, immediately killing David’s vibe by bringing up the mayor whilst they are both naked in the shower but continuing quickly. “He asked if we went to Twyla’s yoga class.”

“Okay, and--”

“He asked if we had any advice about becoming more flexible. He was looking for tips because he told me his shower was very small and him and Jocelyn were looking to branch out their sex life--”

“Oh my God, ew! Don’t finish that sentence.” David exclaims, covering his eyes and wincing.

“So, you understand--”

“Yes!” David replies, moodily. “And now I won’t be able to have sex with you for a week because every time I do, I’ll be thinking about that.”

Patrick smirks slightly at that, and lets the water rinse away the last of his shampoo before passing David and stepping out of the shower, not before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sure I can think of ways to distract you from that.” He says as he stands outside the shower and dries himself off, watching David’s shadow move to complete his own cleaning routine.

“Not gonna happen.” David replies, voice raised enough to carry over to the sound of the water. “At least a week, maybe more. This is all your fault.”

“My fault? Who told Ronnie about it?”

David pulls the shower curtain to one side to stick his head out and hiss at his husband. “You can pay for an actual repair man next time.”

Patrick can’t hold in his laugh at that, and grabs David’s face for a short kiss before turning around and heading back to the bedroom.

“Okay, David.”

**4.**

This is what David gets for doing nice things.

Patrick has been in a bad mood all day. It’s partly related to the baseball, his team is not doing well, although David definitely couldn’t understand any of what he was saying in regard to that. This mixed with a busy day at the store and a distressing lack of proper sleep means that he has been a pouting kitten all day.

Well aware of his husband’s low mood, David sets about to try and make him feel better. He offers to go on the lunch rush, bringing back plenty of food for the both of them and sending Patrick for a break into the back to eat it.

He takes over interacting with customers for most of the day. That isn’t unusual, he is normally the one to upsell customers, but he has discovered that on a bad day, even having to point people towards what they’re looking for sours Patrick’s mood considerably.

He is quick and quiet in cashing up and cleaning the shop floor that evening. Sweeping and mopping silently, keeping an eye on Patrick as he is hunched over the till moodily.

There is no conversation as they head back to the house. They climb out of the car, and, after changing into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt, Patrick collapses onto the couch in the living room with a pathetic sigh.

“I don’t want to cook tonight.” He says, voice muffled by the cushions as David watches him from the kitchen area. “We can just order some food or something. I can’t be bothered.”

David nods, heading over to stroke a supportive hand down his husband’s head, and kiss the hair at the back of his neck.

“You take a break, honey. I’ve got it all sorted.”

Before David has even straightened up properly, Patrick is snoring softly. His mouth is dropped open slightly which will cause him to drool on their cushions, but David can’t help but feel relieved that his husband is out for the count for a while, hoping that he will wake up in a better mood.

He ponders his options. He could always order a pizza or something else and have it delivered in time for Patrick to finish his nap. But somehow, this doesn’t feel nurturing enough.

It’s this thought that leads David to slip out of the back door and call his mother-in-law, watching carefully through the glass to make sure his movements haven’t disturbed Patrick.

“Hello?” Marcy says, picking up after several rings.

“Hi, Marcy.” David replies, feeling relief immediately at the sound of her voice.

“Hi, David. Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. We’re all fine. I actually have a question for you.” He says, cringing slightly at his own lack of ability, and slowly explaining Patrick’s bad mood to her.

“-- So, I wanted to cook him some dinner, something that will make him feel better. But I am, um, not exactly skilled in the kitchen. I thought you might have some pointers for what to do.”

Marcy sounds fond as she replies. “That’s very kind of you David. I do actually have a recipe that he might like. It’s very simple it’s just a pasta sauce, but it always tastes better homemade than from a jar, and it’s very easy to make.”

David sighs in relief and bobs his head as he walks back and forth on the porch, listening to Marcy explain it. She’s right, it’s a very simple recipe, and shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to make.

“Thank you so much for that, Marcy.” David says softly, and he hears her huff a laugh in response.

“Give my love to Patrick, dear. I hope he’s feeling better soon. I’m sure he will be after you’ve cooked him that.”

David chuckles self-deprecatingly, “Well, we’ll see after I’ve actually made it.”

“Good luck, my sweet boy.”

He hangs up, and heads into the kitchen to start cooking.

***

The meal is a success, he completes it quickly and quietly and is just plating up the last of the pasta, each with a considerable amount of sauce on top, when a pair of arms snakes around his waist tightly and make him jump.

In his surprise, he somehow manages to tip the saucepan in his hand upside down and throw a large amount of the remaining tomato sauce across the kitchen.

“Fuck!” He exclaims, looking around to see the red splatters reaching every crevice; on the work top, on a tea towel, and even splattered on the curtain for the window in front of him.

He is about to apologise to Patrick, scared to make his bad mood any worse, but when he turns around, he can feel his chest shaking with laughter.

“What are you laughing about? Look at all the mess!” David exclaims, putting the pan down and turning fully in his husbands’ arms so they are face-to-face.

“We can clean it up. You cooked for me.” Patrick responds, his voice still thick with sleep from the nap. “Leave the mess, I want to eat this delicious meal that my husband has made for me and thank him for the effort.”

David rolls his eyes but looks pleased. “If we don’t clean it now then it will stain.” He says, gesturing towards the curtain but not looking particularly worried.

“Then let it stain, David.” Patrick responds, leaning in already to brush their lips together enticingly. “We have more important things to do.”

When they finally get around to cleaning up the mess, the red marks have well and truly set in the fabric, and officially stained it. Despite David’s insistence that they will have to buy new curtains, they never do, and the small marks becomes just another aspect of their home together.

**5.**

“I want to start a garden.”

If Patrick is surprised by this sudden announcement, then he doesn’t show it. He continues restocking the body milk without faltering, and just nods. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

David pauses, clearly waiting for a better reaction, and it’s his silence that causes Patrick to look up at him.

“Okay, David. What sort of garden do you want?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I- I don’t know! A garden- I um, like, plants and stuff.”

Now Patrick reacts. His incredulous smile morphs into fond laughter.

“Where’s this coming from?” He asks. “You realise there is mud in a garden, right? And dirt. And you’ll get sweaty if you’re digging at it and everything.”

“Since when did I mind getting sweaty?” David asks, frowning as if offended but clearly reconsidering his earlier statement already.

“Fair point, but are you sure this is a situation where you’d be okay with getting dirty?” Patrick asks, twisting all the bottles in front of him so that the label is facing the front.

David frowns to himself and looks indecisive.

“What is this really about?” Patrick asks after another moment of silence.

“You know, we have a house now.” David says slowly.

“That is correct.”

“I just- If we’re doing the whole house and living in a small-town thing, surely we should lean into it. I just- I feel like a garden is the next natural progression.”

Finally, Patrick is surprised.

“I’m sorry, we’re leaning into the whole house thing?”

David looks increasingly flustered and upset by the whole conversation, and Patrick immediately feels guilty for pushing it.

“Forget it, I--”

“You know, I was actually thinking of planting some tomatoes, if that would interest you?” Patrick tries. “Maybe we could work on it together.”

David pretends to hesitate, but gives up and nods eagerly, beaming at his husband.

“I think that could be agreeable.”

“Good.”

Patrick rounds the counter and pulls David in by the face for a firm kiss, before they are interrupted by the bell ringing as a customer enters.

***

David doesn’t want to start a garden. This is a fact that Patrick works out very quickly.

David does want a garden. He wasn’t lying about leaning into the small-town aesthetic, but it is less about the work itself and more about the finishing product.

So, after two weeks of lagging, and procrastinating, Patrick takes it upon himself to fully commit to their little vegetable garden.

He digs and builds some raised beds into the grass near the porch. Planting herbs on one side and making room for tomatoes and courgettes on the other.

The patch grows, bit-by-bit, and becomes a beautiful oasis of green. But it takes longer than the six months that that takes for Patrick to work out David’s motivations here.

It’s early morning on a Sunday; their day off from the store, and the pair have finally made it down the stairs for breakfast and coffee. David is characteristically rumpled; his hair void of product and dressed in his weekend clothes, the whole look softening his appearance and making Patrick desperate to run his hands over him and pull him close. Which he does, several times, making David smile more and more as they dance around each other in the open kitchen.

“Mm, you haven’t dug anything in a while.” David says into his coffee from where he is perched against the counter watching Patrick make pancakes.

“What do you mean?”

“In the garden. You haven’t done any digging in a while.”

“Well, David. That’s because there’s nothing else to dig. All the really hard work it done for this year we just have to wait for everything to grow.”

David hums, seeming discontent about something, and Patrick lets him think as he focuses all his attention on the breakfast in front of him.

“Maybe we should have a second vegetable patch.” He says as they sit down at the table to eat.

Patrick looks up, surprised. “We have to wait for the first one to grow first, David. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we’ll end up digging up the whole garden.”

David pouts. “Are you going to mow the lawn today?”

“Um, no? I did it last weekend.” Patrick pauses as he spears some pancake with his fork and looks up at David with a crease between his eyebrows. “Did you want me to go out for a bit, did you need some time to yourself or--”

“No!” David exclaims, almost looking afraid at the suggestion which makes Patrick relax a little more. “No, the opposite, really.”

Patrick frowns. “Okay, I’m kind of feeling like you’re trying to tell me something and I’m missing it here. Why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking?”

David looks embarrassed, which causes Patrick to reach out and clasp his hand across the table.

“Do you want me to guess?” He asks, and sighs as David nods. “Do you want me to go out into the yard because you’re upset about the way the garden looks and want me to fix it?”

“No.” David says quickly.

“Okay, how about, you’re sick of my company and want the house to yourself?”

David denies this one even quicker.

“Do you have something planned which is why you want me out of the house?”

“I don’t want you out of the house.” David says, rolling his eyes. “I just thought you might want to do some yard work today.”

“Because you think I want to do it?”

David shrugs. “Kind of, getting warmer.”

Patrick sighs, “David, will you please just tell me?”

He looks physically pained as he mumbles his response, looking down at the table with an unwavering eye. “I like our little domestic routine, where I make you drinks and get to watch you work, and then you tell me all about all the things you’ve achieved. I don’t--”

David looks up and trails off as he sees Patrick’s classic open and affectionate expression staring back at him. Patrick looks at him like that a lot, but it’s usually when he’s done something or said something that reveals his emotions about the man. He wasn’t expecting to receive this kind of reaction to him admitting that he likes it when Patrick is all sweaty and accomplished.

The fond face quickly switches into a mischievous grin.

“So, what you’re saying is you like making fresh lemonade and watching me get all sweaty mowing the lawns?”

“Well, it’s not just that.” David says, acting disgruntled. “I know it’s ridiculous--”

Patrick cuts him off by standing and rounding the table to sit in his husband’s lap.

“You know, now that you mention it, the flower borders do need neatening. I will get the hoe out if you agree to water the roses?”

David purses his lips in a flat line, clearly pleased with the suggestion. “I could, uh- that would be fine with me.” He says, accepting a kiss, or several, from his husband, before they turn back to their breakfast.

**6.**

It’s cold when David and Patrick leave the hospital. Patrick wraps his arms around his husbands’ shoulders in a weak attempt to keep him warm and also a desperation to be touching him at all times.

David has a pitted fruit allergy, which they already knew about after a disastrous date night several years ago, but that had apparently gotten worse in the time period, leading to a panicked rush to the hospital after David mistakenly ate some cherry cheese sent to trial from Heather Warner’s Farm.

It had been really quite terrifying for both of them; David’s neck was somehow suddenly red and itching, his lip was stinging, and his throat felt tight.

Initially they thought they’d wait it out; Patrick provided an antihistamine and some water, but the calm reaction turned to panic when David grasped his hand and shook his head desperately, wide-eyed and fearful as the lump in his throat grew, and he sucked in tiny, wheezing breaths.

They had probably broken around twenty traffic laws on the journey down but finally arrived at the emergency room where they were triaged and provided some very effective drugs that Patrick didn’t catch the name of.

They were stuck in the hospital for almost three hours before the nurses deemed the reaction had gone down enough to let them go. They had provided several pamphlets about allergic reactions, some more pills to take if anything got worse, and strict instructions to return if they thought there was anything to worry about.

Patrick opens the passenger door of the car for David to climb in. He crouches down so they’re on eye level and presses a soft kiss to David’s cheek.

“Are you alright? Can I get you anything?” He asks, thumbing his cheekbone fondly.

Tears streak down David’s face as he nods to the first part of the question and shakes his head to the second. He leans forward to wrap his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

“I just want to go home; can you take me home?” David asks as he clutches at Patrick’s t-shirt, already damp from the crying.

“Okay, okay.” Patrick replies consolingly, stroking any part of David he can reach and pressing kisses to his face and neck. “I’m gonna take you home, okay?”

David nods one final time before pulling back and curling up in his seat. Patrick is quick to run around the car and slip into the driver’s seat, squeezing David’s knee protectively as he puts the car in drive and heads out of the carpark.

David falls asleep within minutes, and they drive in silence the rest of the way. Patrick pulls up to the cottage slowly and climbs back around to open David’s door.

He shakes his shoulder gently, “David, we’re home, baby.” He says softly.

David opens his eyes slowly and nods, accepting the help out of the car with a pathetic air and pushing his body fully into Patrick’s side as they walk up to the front door.

“I’m glad we’re home.” He mumbles, still seeming half asleep. “I’m glad you’re my home.”

"I'm glad you're my home too, David." Patrick replies as they climb the steps and unlock the door to enter.

Patrick holds him up and kisses him as they enter the cottage, their house, their home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this little piece of fluff I've been messing around with during my breaks!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] A House Becomes a Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322183) by Anonymous 




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